HDCLSSRS Ch 147

Chapter 147 Awakening(3)

A sudden cloud of dust swept through the street as a group of armed martial artists charged forward, their momentum scattering the onlookers in shrieking panic. They were the warriors of Mount Hua, led by Jang Hansu. At the end of this road, they were meant to rendezvous with the wandering warriors who had reported the suspicious movement.

Keeping his eyes fixed ahead, Jang Hansu ran swiftly, his boots barely grazing the earth — until his brow furrowed mid-stride.

“How many wanderers made the report?”

“One group of about seven or eight, sir,” replied one of his disciples running alongside him. “Why do you ask?”

Jang Hansu glanced behind him. There were fifteen disciples following in total. Excluding the wanderers — whose martial skill was uncertain — they had roughly thirty fighters on hand. Two opponents each, no problem.

“You take command,” he said abruptly. “I’m returning to the manor.”

“Sir? Is there a problem? Sir—!”

Before his disciple could finish, Jang Hansu spun around. His boots scraped the dirt, throwing up dust as he sprinted back the way they’d come, leaving his bewildered disciples shrinking in the distance.

Seong Muyeon… always has to say something that gets under my skin.

He clicked his tongue in irritation.

He had already verified the wanderers’ report through Jegal Un — thoroughly. The Ghost-Slaying Squad was out there. They were baiting the alliance, yes, but ignoring them wasn’t an option either.

He knew there might be a spy within the alliance ranks — but Wudang and the Jegal Clan wouldn’t be so easily deceived. This was the time to trust one another, to focus on their missions for the sake of unity.

…Does Seong Muyeon really think Jegal Un will betray us?

Muyeon hadn’t said it aloud, but Hansu had caught the implication in his tone — the veiled doubt, the quiet warning that something was bound to happen.

On what absurd grounds could he possibly base such a thought?

The Ghost-Slaying Squad’s leader — and their master, the Third Young Lord — weren’t even in the area. His absence wouldn’t matter.

He sped up. Without comrades to match pace with, the return was far quicker. Soon, the manor came into view — eerily calm, no different from when he’d left it.

Ignoring the puzzled stares of those who noticed his unexpected return, Jang Hansu strode quickly toward Seong Muyeon’s quarters.

He threw open the door. Kang Ung, startled, jumped to his feet.

“D-Dojang! H-how are you back so soon—”

“Where’s Seong Muyeon?”

As expected, he wasn’t there. Only a nervous-looking middle-aged man sat awkwardly like a sack of grain. The arrogant, reckless Seomun Yuha, who clung to Muyeon like a shadow, was nowhere in sight — nor was the demonic sect member who always lounged idly in corners.

“Where is he?”

When Jang Hansu barked the question again, Kang Ung paled and stammered.

“H-he said he was going to check whether the Spirit Seal was safe… D-Dojang! Where are you going?!”

Jang Hansu’s teeth clenched as his steps quickened. The thought of what kind of trouble Seong Muyeon might have stirred churned in his gut.

I knew it.

Seong Muyeon was the son of the Demonic Sect Leader — a man whose logic never aligned with that of normal people.

Jang Hansu could not comprehend how such a man had been allowed into Mount Hua’s inner sanctum — much less protected.

Whoever brought him here — Baek Dojang, and even the Head Master who permitted it — must have lost their senses.

He recalled Muyeon’s gentle, pitiful facade — his quiet, sympathetic eyes that drew pity from fools. Beneath that mask, Jang Hansu was certain, something far more sinister lurked.

“D-Dojang! Wait for me!”

The stubby middle-aged man — Yangha Pavilion’s Master — scrambled after him. Jang Hansu frowned.

“What is it now?”

“I’m the master of Yangha Pavilion! I know what that brat is up to.”

Jang Hansu narrowed his eyes, studying him.

“You were in that room earlier, weren’t you? Did you hear what he said?”

“Would you believe it — he’s suspecting Young Master Jegal Un of being a spy! The nerve of him! Poor Seomun Gongja, following that lunatic around like a lost pup. What a tragedy.”

Muttering incoherently, the pavilion master insisted on coming along, claiming he had to check on Seomun Yuha’s safety.

They reached the Central Hall, where the Spirit Seal was kept. Everything appeared undisturbed. No one had seen Seong Muyeon.

“He said he came to check on the Spirit Seal — so where the hell is he?”

“Maybe he went to find Young Master Jegal,” the pavilion master suggested.

They immediately went to Jegal Un’s office — empty. Jang Hansu turned around, exasperated.

“Anywhere else he could’ve gone?”

“There’s another path leading underground,” the pavilion master said, eyes glinting. “He might’ve taken that.”

He led the way.

Jang Hansu’s gaze sharpened. He hadn’t known of any back route into the underground — so how did this man, who wasn’t even part of the Spirit Seal’s security, know such a detail?

“Don’t look at me like that!” the pavilion master huffed. “I trained here as a disciple when I was young. That’s how I know!”

Muttering defensively, he guided them onward with surprising familiarity.

Meanwhile, Jegal Un moved deeper through a hidden corridor. It looked like a route toward his private chambers — but after glancing around to confirm he was alone, he turned sharply down another path.

The three hidden figures trailing him exchanged looks. Suspicious indeed.

They followed silently. Occasionally, a guard would appear — but each time Jegal Un exchanged a brief greeting and passed, Seomun Yuha discreetly used his Huajeong Valley charm to incapacitate them. Thanks to him, their pursuit remained undetected.

If Jegal Un truly was innocent, they were walking into trouble. Getting caught spying on the Young Master of Jegal would mean disaster — imprisonment, if not worse.

Their minds told them to turn back, yet their bodies kept moving forward, compelled by unease.

Something didn’t add up.

“…Doesn’t it feel like he’s leading us on purpose?” Yuha murmured. “Someone like Jegal Un wouldn’t fail to notice a tail.”

Muyeon nodded grimly. “Or perhaps he’s distracting us — keeping our attention elsewhere.”

He’d felt this unease once before, back when he’d first met Jegal Un’s father. At the time, he’d brushed it off as nerves. Now he wasn’t so sure.

The corridor opened into a maze of intersecting hallways. Too far back, they’d lose him; too close, and they’d be caught. Every step demanded caution.

Jegal Un disappeared around another corner. They quickened their pace — and found a staircase leading down into darkness.

His footsteps echoed faintly below, then stopped. A door creaked open… and shut again. Silence fell.

“Where does that passage lead?” Muyeon whispered.

“Young Master, that’s not a place you should—”

The voice came from behind them. Low. Controlled.

All three spun around — to find Jang Hansu, arms crossed, glaring daggers at them. Behind him peeked the uneasy face of the pavilion master.

“Would you care to explain,” Hansu said evenly, “what you’re doing here?”

Muyeon could only offer a sheepish smile.

“I warned you,” Hansu said coldly, stepping forward. “Clearly, words aren’t enough.”

“Just now — Jegal Un went through that door,” Muyeon tried to explain.

“And? That door leads to the lower passage beneath the Central Hall — where the Spirit Seal is hidden,” Hansu cut in sharply. “Young Master Jegal built that chamber himself. He’s allowed to enter. You, on the other hand—”

He stopped mid-sentence. His expression shifted.

“…What is it?” Muyeon asked.

“…Blood,” Hansu whispered. “I smell blood.”

He brushed past Muyeon and descended the stairs without hesitation, vanishing into the dark corridor. Muyeon and the others followed, feeling along the damp wall for guidance — until Muyeon suddenly collided with Hansu’s back.

Then — squelch.

Something wet beneath his boots.

A dreadful premonition seized him. He drew a small torch from his sleeve and ignited it. Light flared, revealing the corridor — and the horror it concealed.

Muyeon gasped. So did the others.

The floor was littered with bodies.

“Th-these are… Wudang disciples,” Seomun Yuha whispered, voice trembling.

“There are Jegal Clan warriors too,” Bang Gyeom murmured after examining a fallen figure nearby.

“…All of them are dead.”

Cold sweat trickled down Muyeon’s back as the torchlight flickered over the corpses, painting the walls in red.